This Is Not Art

Poetry to Split the Social Order

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Tragedy(S)

All the fish are washing up on shore
with x's over their eyes and no clothes on their soul
and little blue eyed
kids in tiny towns are trickling tears down their chins
for the tragedy of it all
and all the water is running black as coal
and the tv is yelling obscenely
and I am screaming for all of those
with tumors sticking out of their backs
Which is everyone
we are all being consumed
we are all consuming others

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